Loveseat
by eli.lasagna
Summary: Lavi and Allen are moving out but the redhead's feeling really terribly bad about it. He reminisces their moments there for the last time and what do you think is Lavi's favorite part of the house? Surprise surprise! Of course, it's the grand loveseat.


A/N: After eons, I finally made it back here! I just really want to share that college life is just plain crazy! 80 percent of my classmates are boys and I don't know whatever freaking hormone my body makes for them to strangely uhh... look at me! I have been getting this oddest of the odd feelings this past days. Hope everything's gonna be fine. :)

And why do I keep on making Lavi an uke? I think I have been reading a lot of yaio manga lately :3

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own it

* * *

"Clothes?"

"Check."

"Tootbrush?"

"Check."

"Toiletries?"

"Check."

"Cleaned the rooms?"

"Check."

Then there's a pause. I stifled my giggles and waited for the next one on the list. I watched Allen with amusement as his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed while looking at the list I made. Allen shot me an incredulous look but I just grinned playfully at him.

"Lavi, what is this 'toys' on the list?"

And that's when I burst into laughter.

"CHE-CK!" I exclaimed between fits of laughter.

"I thought I told you to make a list of the essentials that we should bring."

"Why? Don't you consider this 'toys' as essentials?"

Allen shrugged and crouched down to grab the luggage beside me.

"Whatever. With or without these toys, it'll still be fun, don't you think?"

He straightened up and the last three words were practically hissed on my ear and I felt goosies appear on every inch of my skin. I looked at him and the way his silver eyes gaze at me made me freeze and melt at the same time. He drew closer until the distance between us was just an inch, our noses close to touching.

Hey, hey. Wait. I was supposed to throw him the joke but why am I the one who looks like victimized and more importantly, why the hell am I blushing? Damn. Allen really knows how to put and play with me in the palm of hands. Then he suddenly dropped the heavy luggage on my feet and I squeaked.

"Bring that one. We're going now. Bookman's eyes might become more dilated than usual if we keep him waiting."

I chuckled at his remark to Gramps. He wore his satchel and a voice in my mind said "Hey dweeb, haven't you forgotten somethin'?"

"Shit! I forgot something! I have to go back inside!" I dropped the luggage and rushed back to our now old house.

**~o~o~**

Allen and I started living together at the dorms when we're still at high school. Who thought we would be together until now? Well, I always believed that Allen was cute and he would make a great housemate. Though, he's more than that for me.

Anyway, we decided to move because the Interpol is o look with us. Like we got almost a hundred of phone calls every day with the same message telling us to surrender. As if we'll do it. Hah. The one on the run is not really me, but Allen. But of course, if it's his defiance, then it is mine as well. This chase goes back from Allen's foster father Mana and his uncle Nea's connection to a weird affiliation that goes by the name 'Noah's Family', which is managed by some retard fatso who claims himself as an 'Earl' (seriously, an Earl in the 21st century!) and wears an oversized grin that will put any smiley into shame. How the Interpol did became involved- I don't know. And by chance, my panda slash koala of a gramps knew somewhere else where we could be elusive while living a mostly normal life. I don't know though where it is. Maybe it is somewhere in the Bermuda triangle or in the middle of the Arctic. That's why we have to see gramps later.

I really feel bad about the fact that we have to move out. Allen and I spent five years of our lives in this house, and this haven eventually became a significant part of our relationship. We moved in here right after our high school graduation. Honestly, I had a hard time convincing Allen to stay and live with me. Since the whereabouts of his guardian Marian Cross was unknown at that time. But he had still insisted that he doesn't want to involve me in a dangerous situation and he will be devastated if something happens to me and other excuses that only proved that he loves me so much to nth degree and—awww… ain't I touched by that? He just added the reasons why I should take him in. And so, on the years that followed, he was screwed with me. Well, until now, he is.

At first look, this haven (I feel calling it like that) looks just like a typical simple bungalow on the quiet countryside which belongs to two old geezers who tend to a dozen of felines. Not a hideout for two of the most wanted by the International Police. I just want to make it clear: WE ARE NOT CRIMINALS. Not me or Allen, more importantly. He can't even kill a fly!

I fumbled with my keys until I got the correct one and opened the door and stepped inside. The first part of the house, the part that you will see when you open the front door, is the kitchen and the dining hall. As I pass through, those small holes on the wall near the sink caught my attention. The orange afternoon sunlight enters through them and makes the dim surroundings lit up. Those small holes were actually bullet shots that the Interpol is giving us occasionally. Sweet, aren't they? This kitchen is where we shared meals that were cooked over the intense heat of our affection to one another, together with the laughter and joy brought by each day that comes. And that was just plain cheesy.

Yeah, I forgot. This isn't the right time reminiscing because gramps is waiting for us. I headed straight to my room to my closet. I opened the empty closet and fished out my swiss knife from my pocket. I used it to open a secret compartment I made in the bottom of the closet. And because it's a secret, of course Allen doesn't know about this. I used to hide here the things that are most important to me. If Allen could only fit inside, I would really put him there. What's inside was my dusty journal (gramps told me to keep one) and all of the gifts that Allen has given me since high school. I'm not really a sentimental bastard but my beansprout turned me into one. Not that I don't like it.

I put them all on my satchel and made sure the compartment won't be obvious if ever the Interpol came to check the house. I went out of the room and locked the door. I looked around and a heavy sigh of distress came out. I don't really want to do this. My mind is now flooding with memories of this house. I think that if I go, this freaking nostalgia will kill me. I shook my head trying to remove all of this strange feeling I'm getting. I was on my way out when I tripped on the metal foot of the couch that was jutting out. Luckily, I fell on the soft sofa. I didn't stand up immediately instead, I let myself melt a bit into the coziness of this loveseat for the last time.

Mind telling you my favorite part of this house? Nope, it's not my room. Even though that is where I and Allen usually share our private times together. And it is not in the shower where we get kinky (excuse me). But it is this couch. As simple as it is. I refer to this three-seat sofa as a loveseat. Literally a loveseat. We have shared a lot of moments here together; no matter if the telly was on or not. A lot of mushy conversations, nonsense chats and even heated arguments. This is where we used to sit and exchange sweet nothings to each other until we begin kissing. At times, Allen's fierceness (which I don't know where comes from), makes me give in and just melt and moan into his kiss. Uggh… what am I doing? Thinking perverse thoughts in the midst of moving out? Yeah right.

"Lavi! We're going! We're getting late!"

I heard Allen shout from outside. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of the loveseat and of the whole house. This moving out thing must be better than whatever I anticipated. Because if not, I will come back here again no matter what.

"Coming!"


End file.
